Will you have a beautiful death?
Will it go gray and ashen
Like an April evening
Will it be slow and peaceful and tick tock tick tock
In the homes of strangers,
On white couches with untouched tea on glass tables
Of course you must be quiet
Listen just listen
For the steady beat of the fading clock.
After all the flinches and flails and clonic reachings
Death approaches in its rat-a-tat-tat
The strict rhythm grips you like gravity
when the floor